


Irrevocable

by Aryagraceling



Series: Catharsis [23]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Blood, Drowning, Grief/Mourning, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt No Comfort, Loss, M/M, Terminal Illnesses, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-18 15:23:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18702289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aryagraceling/pseuds/Aryagraceling
Summary: “Look,” Iruka croaked. He dragged his fingers over his lips, smearing his throat red before doing his best to hold them out to Izumo. “I…” He struggled to catch his breath enough to whisper out ‘gone’ before Izumo burst into tears.“They can save you,” he cried, falling to his knees to rest against Kotetsu. “I know they can.”“He didn’t want to be,” Kotetsu said softly. Iruka tugged his hand away and nodded toward Izumo, and Kotetsu put an arm around his lover’s shoulders. “Do you want to be by him?”Iruka barely managed another nod, and watched Kotetsu whisper assurances into Izumo’s ear. “You can get someone if you’d like,” Kotetsu finally said, “but it’d be better if you were there at the end.”





	Irrevocable

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please pay attention to the tags.

Kakashi always came back. Sometimes it took longer than expected and sometimes he was back days or even weeks early, but he always came back. He always bought ramen on those nights. He always asked Iruka to tell him what had gone on in the village when he was away, and he always gave Iruka the same one-armed hug before going off to battle his demons alone in his apartment.

It was always the same, until it wasn’t.

The day it changed was the day Iruka switched to orange tea with a little honey. He brewed a cup in the morning to drink on the off chance Kakashi was home to bother him on the walk to school. He brewed another in the lounge for the walk home, and whenever Kakashi asked his friend to eat with him, Iruka ordered the establishment’s finest.

Izumo was the only one he’d told. Kotetsu had found out soon enough, but Iruka had expected it. Izumo never was good at keeping secrets. Kotetsu was, though, and every time he brought Iruka tea at the mission desk he just sent him a worried look. As the illness progressed, he was the one pushing for Iruka to spill to Kakashi. When Iruka balked at the prospect, then outright refused, he was the one to encourage the surgery.

But Iruka didn’t want to cut out the admiration. He didn’t want to cut out the appreciation of late nights and early mornings spent worrying if Kakashi was okay, if he’d come back whole. He didn’t want to cut out the hurried glances of an unmasked face between bites, hidden blushes passed off as warmth from his tea, and casual touches that meant more to him than Kakashi would ever know.

He hadn’t named it _love_ until Kotetsu had cornered him with his cup filled to the brim with orange blossoms.

Izumo had been more understanding, but Izumo hadn’t been through the sickness. Kotetsu explained how it felt, drowning in flowers for someone whose affections were _maybe_ at best. “Ask. Him,” he insisted. “Or I’ll sit you down and force you. I’m not watching my friend die.”

“He’s leaving tomorrow,” Iruka said. “I’ll ask him when he gets back, because he doesn’t need to be distracted.”

Waiting, it seemed, had been one of his worse decisions.

He could have told Kakashi over sushi the night before, when he’d passed off the coughing as ‘just a grain of rice down the wrong tube, Kakashi.’ He could have told Kakashi when Kakashi’s hand _just_ brushed against his at the mission desk that morning, could have pulled him aside and said ‘I’m dying, Kakashi.’ He could have taken Izumo’s offer of letting him run after Kakashi, but he hadn’t.

Maybe if he had, Kakashi would have stayed.

Maybe Tenzou would have brought him back wounded.

Maybe, _maybe,_ he wouldn’t have watched what remained of Kakashi be lowered into a grave dug too soon.

Izumo stayed up with him that night. His hands burned Iruka’s fevered skin before Iruka asked him to switch to a cool cloth and even then, the cloth was nearly too much as it smoothed over his back. Breath came heavy and terror was close behind, clenching around his heart like nothing ever had before. Even the fuma shuriken embedded in his back hadn’t hurt like this, because the pain was something worse than betrayal.

It was loss, crystal clear and agonizing, and even Izumo insisted he get to the hospital.

“Later,” he promised, choking back the delicate white blossoms. “I’ll--”

Izumo helped him through that bout, the next, and the next until Iruka insisted on being brought back to bed. “I’m standing watch,” he insisted when Iruka said he could leave. “You’re not dying on me too.”

Iruka couldn’t muster the energy to cry. He struggled taking a regular breath through the growth in his lungs, so heaving sobs would do him no good. Panicked breaths would be no help either, though there was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to give in to the dark thoughts that whispered he wouldn’t make the recovery time.

Kotetsu had done it, he tried to convince himself. Kotetsu had felt the blossoms and stems recede at the feel of Izumo’s lips over his. He’d been cured. If Iruka could just find someone else, fall for another person…

He’d do anything to keep the memory of his feelings for Kakashi alive.

_Anything._

Even if it meant loving someone else.

Sleep was a fleeting companion. He woke frequently when his head fell to one side or another, the petals making their way into his throat and stealing every spare bit of oxygen like Kakashi did each time he smiled. When the blood came, his throat in tatters from the vicious hacking, his eyes finally filled. His chest was heavy with the weight of grief and what felt like half of a tree growing inside him and as he looked to Izumo drifting off in the corner, the darkness turned from thought to desire.

His hand shook as he slid it across the bedspread to tap Izumo’s. “Wha--” his friend mumbled, shaking his head as he roused himself. _“Iruka,_ fuck,” he cursed upon seeing the crimson staining his chin. “We’ve got to get you to the hospital, and you’re not saying no.”

Iruka tried to cough, but ended up nearly falling off the bed as he reflexively rolled over to vomit this time. Half digested petals and blood turned black came up along with their fresh counterparts, and Izumo disappeared only to bring back a stunned Kotetsu thirty seconds later.

The look in Ko’s eyes told him all he needed to know.

He knelt by Iruka’s bed and took his hand, ignoring Izumo’s pleas to move, do something, _anything._ “You’re an idiot, you know that?” he whispered. “A fucking fool.”

“He’s _dying!”_ Izumo cried.

“He is,” Kotetsu said. “Tell me where to go, Iruka.”

“Where to- _no,”_ Izumo said, attempting to pull Kotetsu away, “we’re going to the _hospital.”_

“Look,” Iruka croaked. He dragged his fingers over his lips, smearing his throat red before doing his best to hold them out to Izumo. “I…” He struggled to catch his breath enough to whisper out ‘gone’ before Izumo burst into tears.

“They can save you,” he cried, falling to his knees to rest against Kotetsu. “I know they can.”

“He didn’t want to be,” Kotetsu said softly. Iruka tugged his hand away and nodded toward Izumo, and Kotetsu put an arm around his lover’s shoulders. “Do you want to be by him?”

Iruka barely managed another nod, and watched Kotetsu whisper assurances into Izumo’s ear. “You can get someone if you’d like,” Kotetsu finally said, “but it’d be better if you were there at the end.”

“No,” Izumo mumbled, bleary eyes meeting Iruka’s even as Kotetsu stood to pick Iruka off the bed.

Red and white stained his shirt as the movement shook more petals loose, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Come with us, Izumo,” Kotetsu said. “Please.”

“Pillow,” Iruka rasped, pointing to the unstained one on the other side of the bed, the one Tenzou had offered when cleaning Kakashi's apartment.

“Kakashi’s?” Kotetsu asked.

“Ka-ka--” Iruka could feel the blood before he saw it spatter on Kotetsu’s shirt, and he felt it as it began the slow backslide into his lungs. “Ko, blood--”

Kotetsu cursed and ordered Izumo to give Iruka the pillow and the next second, Iruka found himself under the openly pouring sky above a fresh grave. Heavier and heavier his chest got, breath a low gurgle now rather than a soft flutter. He’d given himself up to the inevitable a long time ago, yes, but now that the inevitable had come he was _scared._

Being waterboarded in training did nothing to prepare you for drowning in your own blood.

Being waterboarded in training didn’t taste like life trickling down your trachea, and being waterboarded in training didn’t feel quite so final. Even the crying of his lungs hadn’t felt quite like the end because through it all, he’d held onto the thought of seeing someone who understood at the end of the day.

Did Kakashi understand how it felt to die for someone he loved?

Iruka clutched Izumo’s and Kotetsu’s shirts as rain stung his open eyes. “Bury...me...here,” he barely managed, and both nodded as they grabbed his hands. His head slipped to the side--it didn’t matter, keeping his airway clear at this point--and he inhaled the fading scent of Kakashi as best he could around the stench of iron and oranges. It was the smallest drop of comfort in the bucket of eternity, but he was grateful.

Grateful he’d gotten the chance to love the Copy Ninja, and grateful he had friends who would let him follow Kakashi into the void. It was creeping up on every side of him, black and grey and red swirling in a dance he didn’t think he’d see until he was old. His mouth dropped open, all attempts at breathing normally turned to dust as blood began a steady trickle to the pillow below.

His final moments weren’t proud. They were breathless gasps between choking on his own fluids, and they were panic. They were convulsing around his memory of Kakashi, and they were sadness, anger. They were Izumo and Kotetsu’s sobs fading away, and they were everything going silent to the feeling of a hand planted firmly in the middle of his back and someone familiar whispering.

“Iruka? What are you doing here?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments always read and _very_ much appreciated, and I always do my best to get back to them ❤️
> 
> You can also find me lurking and yelling about fictional characters on:  
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